-house in
Bisbee? A nice life, isn't it? Do you care to think of it, both of you?"

"I can take care of her," Gilbert was quick in saying.

"With your friend, Lopez--if he escapes--become a professional killer. My
dear chap, you forget. She's used to decent people. It makes all the
difference in the world." Pell turned away, lest the hard look should
return to his countenance.

Lucia had been listening intently. "I know him, Gil," she whispered, loud
enough for her husband to hear. "He's trying to frighten us!"

Pell faced her. "Frighten you? You're wrong, my dear. I'm merely trying to
help you. That's all."

There was a step on the path--another step. Several people were approaching
the adobe. Without ceremony, the door was thrust open, and Bradley was
before them, excitement in his eyes. He came into the room and dim figures
could be seen behind him. Was that Lopez tied up, with his back to them in
the darkness? His shoulders were bent over, his hat was pulled down over
his brow. His hair was matted, and two Mexicans stood guard on either side
of him. Far away the stars twinkled, unmindful of his plight.

"Got any water?" Bradley asked.

"Lopez!" Pell exclaimed.

"He's got him!" came from Gilbert.

Lucia grew paler still. "Lopez! Captured!" she cried. "Oh!" And she hid her
face in her hands. What a few brief hours could bring!

Bradley came close to her. "And a fine day's work for us, lady," he said,
triumph in his tone. "We got him at last." Then, in the light of the
candle, he caught a good view of Pell. "Say, I thought you was dead!" he
cried.

"I was," laughed the other. "I mean--only a scalp wound." And he pointed to
the mark on his forehead.

The figure at the door, piteous in its helplessness, never moved, never
turned.

"Give me that water," Bradley continued. "I want to get him in alive if I
can. All the more credit to me and my men, you see."

Morgan Pell had taken the canteen down from the wall and poured some water
in it. Now he handed it to Bradley. "There you are," he said.

"Thanks," the ranger said. He went back to the door, and pushed the jug to
the lips of his prisoner. "Take a swig o' that." Lopez did so. His
humiliation was evident even in his back. And only a little while ago he
had been the monarch of all he surveyed! Now he was the slave of Bradley,
and must ride, hand-cuffed, to the jail a few miles away.

"He's wounded," said Lucia, going to the door. "You can't take him--li